It all starts with an idea, who the fuck knows if you’ll be right. The laziest of generations yet, everybody is caught in their feelings. People want to get, nobody wants to do. I have scars from failed attempts, I have ambitions because of the information it gave me. What is the catalyst to few, is the failures for me. I wouldn’t know where to begin if it wasn’t drilled into my brain where I left off. I got Pyrex dreams, with nascar drive. Every drop a possible explosion, that’s the excitement I live by. I work for a treehouse because it’s what inspire me, I stand perch with the wisdom of an owl. Never will I let an idea escape me without trying and failing. It’s alright not to land on your two feet, most can’t say they even tried to fly. It’s already March and what I’m about to cook up is way more fucking valuable than meth. Lab rituals with library knowledge, you too can cook the dream. Apparently people are frustrated but the unknown, and shocked by the labor of love. It only takes one drop to succeed and one moment to try.